


Together

by CanonCannon



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-11-21 01:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11346714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanonCannon/pseuds/CanonCannon
Summary: Daryl doesn’t know what it means or why it keeps happening–why he keeps letting it happen. He sure as shit doesn’t know why Paul started it in the first place.He should put a stop to it, he knows that. Resolves it yet again: he’ll tell Paul to cut it out.Another month passes, which makes it two months running that Paul’s been cornering him somewhere private so they can do… stuff. Stuff that leaves Daryl breathless and confused and euphoric and too embarrassed to say a single word about it afterwards.That seems to suit Paul just fine. He doesn’t say a goddamn thing about it either, and hypocritically Daryl really wishes the goddamn hippie would take a goddamn minute to explain what in the goddamn hell it is they’re doing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This unpolished thingy is actually a fill for the following ficlet prompts:
> 
> “I don’t want you to stop.”  
> “Fine, don’t say anything and make me worry.”  
> If you are could you write something between first time and est relationship? I always wonder how those "we hooked up now i want more" convos would go.
> 
> Thanks so much to the two anons and vintagejacqui for these, I was trying for a three-part response and it kinda didn't divide easily so it turned into... this.

_Daryl doesn’t know what it means or why it keeps happening–why he keeps_ letting _it happen. He sure as shit doesn’t know why Paul started it in the first place._

 _He should put a stop to it, he knows_ that _. Resolves it yet again: he’ll tell Paul to cut it out._

_Another month passes, which makes it two months running that Paul’s been cornering him somewhere private so they can do… stuff. Stuff that leaves Daryl breathless and confused and euphoric and too embarrassed to say a single word about it afterwards.  
_

_That seems to suit Paul just fine. He doesn’t say a goddamn thing about it either, and hypocritically Daryl really wishes the goddamn hippie would take a goddamn minute to explain what in the goddamn hell it is they’re doing._

_It doesn’t happen that often; Paul’s got shit to do. He’s always busy, it seems, counseling Maggie, helping Dr. Carson, teaching the kids to fight, and scouting. Daryl’s busy, too, fixing cars and buildings, teaching Enid to track, and providing most of the meat the colony gets in any given week._

_At mealtimes Paul still talks his ear off about everything under the fucking sun_ besides _sweaty make out sessions in dark corners._ _With how thoroughly Paul ignores the subject, Daryl wonders if maybe he’s imagining the whole thing–every strange, dirty rendezvous. But then Paul tugs him into the apple orchard at dusk and afterwards Daryl knows he couldn’t have dreamt_ that _up. His imagination’s not that good._

_Yeah, Daryl’s definitely going to put a stop to this shit show soon._

_Any day now._

–

The first time it happens, Paul’s lips are only on his for about half a second before the little hippie backs away, looking up at him with a ridiculous shocked expression on his face, as if _Daryl’s_  the one who had gone batshit crazy and locked lips with the nearest warm body. He even looks a little fearful, like he thinks the hunter might punch him, and in his post-kiss daze Daryl feels weirdly hurt over that. Shoving himself away from the corner of the barn where they’d been brushing down the horses, he stalks off without a word or backward glance, more panicked than is rational for a man who survived an apocalypse, a war, and a childhood with Will Dixon.

After a week of avoiding the trailer and Maggie asking why Daryl is so grumpy, Paul still hasn’t mentioned it and Daryl realizes it must have been some kind of fluke. Paul’s probably well on his way to forgetting it ever happened while Daryl obsesses like a teenager.

After that they go on as usual for awhile, Paul friendly as ever and Daryl quietly tolerating him. And if Paul is veering from friendly into flirty more and more often, it’s just another thing Daryl can ignore, like he’s very carefully ignoring the vivid memory of soft lips and wide blue-green eyes looking up at him from centimeters away.

–

Of course the bastard kisses him again.

They’re out in the cold fixing their shitty water heater in the narrow space between the trailer and the outside wall. There is nothing special about the moment at all. Both men are bundled up against the snow and Daryl is sure he hasn’t been doing anything remotely attractive. He’s just minding his business fixing a burner when he suddenly finds himself pinned against the trailer with a gloved hand on his neck, another on his shoulder.

“Can I…” and the shorter man reels him in, pulling Daryl’s head down to his level. His grip is firm, but he moves slowly enough for Daryl to pull away or say no. Daryl watches Paul’s lashes flutter closed in anticipation and thinks distantly that he really ought to stop this, say something– _Thanks but no thanks, I ain’t into guys_.

With their lips almost touching Paul hesitates again, and Daryl wishes he would hurry the hell up, do what he’s going to do already. Get it over with.

Their lips meet in a simple, undemanding kiss, followed by another, then another. Paul groans “Let me, come on, let me” with his lips smearing against Daryl’s–makes no sense, Daryl’s obviously already  _letting him_ plenty–but the words, or maybe Paul’s tone, make the hunter’s breath hitch painfully in his chest regardless.

The pace is almost calm, just glowing embers rather than a blaze, yet Daryl’s hands shake.

After several long moments he breaks away, bewildered, and fumbles to close the heater and reopen the gas valve. Paul stays beside him, mercifully not teasing when he drops the screwdriver into the snow.

Daryl speed-walks back to the trailer to tell Maggie and Enid the heater is fixed. They all stay in the rest of the day, Paul retreating into a book while Daryl plays cards with the women.

They don’t talk about it. Daryl tries not to  _think_ about it.

–

A few days later they’re finishing with breakfast when Paul asks for help carrying in firewood. Daryl knows right away that something is off; the guy never asks anyone for help, with anything.

He still follows him through the gate. 

Paul’s tongue is in his mouth, tasting faintly of tea, as soon as they’re out of sight of the guards. There is nothing simple or undemanding about the kiss this time.

The guards look at Daryl strangely when he stalks back through the gate less than five minutes later, flushed, alone, and with the wrong kind of wood.

No wonder Paul thinks this is something they can just _do_ , now. Fuck. Daryl needs to say something, stop giving him the wrong idea.

–

Maggie’s on bed rest in the trailer, so Paul improvises. Next is the library before the kids meet there for school, then the medical trailer where anyone could walk in, then behind the tool shed.

That one lasts for almost twenty minutes, Paul’s hands mapping Daryl’s arms and back and shoulders and his mouth venturing to Daryl’s jaw and throat. Trembling, Daryl puts his hands tentatively on Paul’s hips, moving his thumbs in small circles, and Paul smiles into the kiss.

–

Paul leaves to go on a run for a week. Daryl tells himself it’s nice to have some fucking peace and quiet in the trailer. He tells Maggie and Enid, too, for good measure.

The day after Paul gets back he kisses Daryl against three different trees after casually volunteering to ‘help’ check the traps, like removing dead animals from steel contraptions is a two-person gig.

Daryl lets him and lets him and lets him.

By the last tree Paul is getting handsy, palms roaming Daryl’s upper body. Daryl imagines flipping their position and pinning those adventurous hands above them. Just the thought makes him groan, embarrassingly loudly.

He freezes, horrified, but Paul likes it. The other man surges into the kiss, pressing Daryl into the tree with his whole frame.

Suddenly Paul’s dick is–Daryl whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, it’s pathetic–Paul’s dick is hard against his thigh, and he can’t think. He’s dragging Paul closer, rocking his hips forward just to see, just for a second. Paul pushes back and it’s good, so good-

A walker stumbles close, skeletal hands reaching towards them. After a split second of surprise Paul gets it with a throwing knife and tries to continue where they left off, but Daryl slips away, heart pounding, leaning to pick up his crossbow from the ground without pausing in his stride.

–

That same evening they're meandering around the trailer before bed waiting for the girls to finish in the bathroom when Paul leans into him, then stands on tip-toe to kiss him.

Daryl glares but allows one quick peck.

Enid and Maggie are a few feet away getting into their pajamas and doing whatever else it is women do before going to sleep, but the little hippie has no fucking shame, apparently, because he immediately tries for more. Daryl dodges to the side and wriggles away. They play at fighting in complete silence, Paul’s deft hands grasping his elbow and pushing his shoulder as though to pin him against the wall. Daryl bats them down, pointing insistently at the bathroom door with a roll of his eyes, and Paul smirks, shrugs, and steals another kiss.

Maggie asks Paul several times what he’s grinning about as they all settle in to sleep.

They’d been flirting, Daryl realizes later, laying on his stomach on his cot and wondering what the fuck is happening to him.

–

Two weeks and several heated encounters later, things escalate.

They’re in the kitchen, but it’s late and Paul closed the doors–it feels more private than some of the places they’ve found, anyway. Still, Daryl’s breath stutters in alarm when one of Paul’s wandering hands passes over his ass as if by accident.

Paul notices Daryl’s sharp intake of air, of course. He was probably waiting for Daryl’s reaction. He does that, Daryl’s realized–tries things out, experiments. He repeats the things Daryl likes.

The hand returns to his ass and squeezes. Rubs. Daryl manages not to make a noise, but he can’t help the way his heartbeat picks up. Worse, they’re pressed chest to chest, so when his hips buck forward he accidentally drags his dick against Paul’s.

Backing him against a wall, Paul’s other hand slides in front of them at a strange angle. Daryl doesn’t realize why until a thumb grazes his nipple through his shirt, causing arousal to slip down his spine and a harsh gasp to slip from his mouth.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Paul says quietly, and that’s unusual. Of course Paul will stop if he asks, there’s no need to say that out loud–then Paul slides his hand slowly from Daryl’s chest to his dick, stroking him through his jeans. It’s late and they’re relatively well-hidden, but Daryl still feels twelve kinds of embarrassed, having his cock stroked out in public.

Paul sees him flushing. “Daryl? Do you want to stop? It's fine either way.”

The look on Paul’s face is intense. His hands come to rest on Daryl’s belt.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Daryl whispers, and then it’s friction and heat and wondering if that’s a normal amount of precome or if Paul is totally weirded out by the slickness. He doesn’t say anything, at least, just grasps, tugs, and squeezes until Daryl doubles over with a choked-off cry.

He slumps bonelessly to the floor after, looking up at Paul in shock. Paul is panting, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, hands in fists at his sides. “You ok?”

Daryl stares. He has a wet spot on his shirt and jeans. _I did not think this through_ , he thinks, trying to catch his breath.

“Daryl, I- I need to know, because I’m right on the edge here, and I fucking need to find, I don’t know, a bathroom to take care of it, but first you have to be ok, so-”

Scowling, Daryl sits up a little, shifting to his knees, and reaches up for Paul’s belt. _Find a bathroom_ , Christ, he’d just made Daryl come in the middle of the kitchen, that little shit isn’t getting the privacy of a fucking bathroom.

“Oh my God,” Paul says faintly, closing his eyes. Daryl realizes belatedly what his position on the floor might imply and stands hastily, reaching into Paul’s briefs a moment later.

It’s incredibly satisfying to watch Paul lose his ironclad composure for once.

–

Over the next few days Daryl thinks a _lot_ more about the implications of kneeling on the floor in front of Paul. He can’t stop thinking about it.

He thinks about it while Paul jacks him off in the trailer the next time they’re alone. Before Daryl can return the favor they hear Enid coming close, talking to one of the younger kids, and have to scramble to get decent.

A few hours later Daryl’s tackled into Hilltop’s tiny cornfield. He doesn’t even have to do anything, Paul just unzips and rubs against him while they kiss, turning at the last second to spill into the soil.

–

The next week there’s a torturous span from midnight to four a.m. when their shifts overlap and they’re the only guards at the gate.

They’re alone, it’s dark enough that no one can see them, and Paul isn’t doing shit about it. Just talking talking talking, asking Daryl all kinds of questions about movies and Georgia and family and fucking _books_. He speaks quietly so they don’t attract unwanted attention, keeping his eyes out on the road and fields ahead, and barely seems to pause for breath in his relentless 20 questions crusade.

Antsy, Daryl does his best to respond. He keeps glancing at Paul, then away, then back again, his eyes darting to the other man’s lips, his hands, his hair. The night's warm so he’s tied it up in a knot on top of his head.

Daryl thinks about biting his neck and feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

They usually never get this much concentrated time alone together, let alone privacy, and apparently Daryl is conditioned to expect some action. He just doesn’t understand why Paul isn’t going for it. Instead the guy’s explaining the plot of some weird-ass book with elves and wizards and something called orcs.

Thing is, Daryl never initiates their… whatever-you-call-it. Their thing. Paul always touches him first, kisses him first, and, recently, gets his nimble hands under Daryl’s clothes first. Barely listening to Paul’s lecture about some evil ring–surely he can’t have heard that right–Daryl eyes the other man and wonders.

There’s probably no reason it couldn’t go the other way, right? No reason Paul would laugh or pull away if Daryl is the one to-?

Daryl realizes pretty quick that he’s being a pussy.

Taking a deep breath, he turns to look at Paul leaning casually against the wall of the little guard tower, so fucking appealing in the warm night air with his tight khakis and loose white button-down. He’s still talking about that book, the nerd. He’s the kind of guy that reads for fun. Probably went to college.

Christ, Daryl wants him so badly.

Without ceremony, he steps close and trails a hand from a muscled chest to a trim waist. Paul’s midway through a sentence and his mouth just stops working, hanging open.

Daryl still doesn’t know if this is a two-way street, but at least it shut Paul up about that fucking book for a minute. The man isn’t stopping him yet so Daryl slides his hand to the left and starts touching him through his pants. 

Paul goes from soft to rock hard against his hand fast enough for his dick to get whiplash. Daryl chuckles lowly at the thought. He pulls away for a moment to see what Paul will do–it’s weird, being the aggressor for once–but then he looks down at Paul’s face and his mouth goes dry.

Paul looks wrecked already. His pupils are huge in the dim light. He licks his upper lip, staring at Daryl like- like-

Daryl moves his hand back to Paul’s dick, wanting to keep that look on his face for as long as possible. Then on impulse he drops to his knees, undoes Paul’s khakis, and looks up. He likes that face even better. Paul looks ready to keel over.

“Ain’t done this before… might not be all that great-”

“I don’t _care_ , God, could not care less, just-”

Paul has to bite his wrist to stay quiet and Daryl tries to focus on that; Paul likes him that much. Enough to want to fool around with him, anyway. He tries to focus on that, rather than thinking about how enjoying sucking cock definitely makes him a faggot. There’s no equivocating about this one.

Afterwards Paul returns the favor. It’s the best thing Daryl’s ever felt or seen and as he combs his fingers through long light brown hair, he decides he doesn’t give a shit about being a fag.

 

–

“I want to tell Maggie about us.”

Daryl stares, not comprehending.

Paul gazes back at him, brows arched. “Oh fine, don’t say anything and make me worry. Great.” He sounds like he's joking, but there's real nervousness around the edges of his voice.

“Tell Maggie _what_?”

“That we’re… that we’re… what the fuck _are_ we?” Paul waves a hand between them.

“I dunno,” Daryl says, startled. “Thought you knew.”

“We’re… together?” Paul tries, face scrunched.

Daryl’s heart speeds up.

Paul laughs at his expression, dragging a hand through his beard and then all the way up through his hair. “Ok, I don’t know what we are either, I just know I like it and I’m tired of fucking outside. Eduardo's leaving for the Kingdom–he’s marrying Sandy next month–and I’m, um… I’m kinda planning to ask Maggie and Enid to move to his room in Barrington House. It’s more comfortable than the trailer, but… that’s not why…” When Daryl doesn’t say anything, Paul huffs an exasperated laugh. "You could throw me a bone, here. I don’t know how to do this, I’ve never asked a guy to move in with me before. I mean I’m not asking you to move in, exactly, but… well. We’d be living together. Sleeping together.”

“Together,” Daryl says slowly, confirming.

“Yeah. Together,” Paul says, looking away, but not before Daryl sees the pleased, shy little smile on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: “Did you just hiss at me?” The idea for the line came to me, and I decided it fit well in this universe.

For some bullshit reason, Paul says they should talk to Maggie together. "So there isn't any miscommunication issue" or whatever.

Turns out, Paul's just a complete chicken shit about this kind of thing.

"Eduardo's leaving soon," he says, and he's trying so hard to be casual that Daryl winces for him.

Maggie notices, too, and eyes him strangely. "Yeah..."

"I was, um, I was thinking, that room is nice. It has its own bathroom. Maybe you and Enid could..."

Her eyes widen. "Oh! Oh, Jesus, of course we'll get out of your hair, honey."

Paul relaxes a fraction. “Please don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved having you-"

"But you're used to having this place to yourself. I understand. That room's plenty big enough for Enid, the baby, and I. We’re just about finished converting the attic, too. Daryl can take one of the rooms up there." Turning to Daryl, she adds, "It's small, but you'll have it to yourself."

Daryl just shrugs, looking at Paul to explain. Paul looks back helplessly.

Goddamn it.

"Think I'm staying here," Daryl says finally, chewing his thumbnail and hoping that's the end of this conversation.

It's not. "But... Daryl, if Jesus wants his space back… I know you don't like the house much, maybe we can find you a spot in another trailer?”

Daryl glares at Paul pointedly. The man seems to have turned into a statue.

"We're- uh. Paul- he wants me to stay," Daryl stutters with mounting panic. "We talked it over."

"Oh... alright," Maggie says slowly, looking between them.

She's about to let it go without them even having to explain why, which is a bonus as far as Daryl’s concerned, when Paul suddenly blurts out, "We're sleeping together.”

God _fucking_ damn it.

Then he freezes again, leaving Daryl to deal with the fallout, and Daryl is going to strangle him as soon as  Maggie stops crying all over him.

Once Maggie runs out of questions and finishes apologizing and blaming pregnancy hormones for the tears, she starts just repeating the same things over and over, mostly "I'm so happy for you two" and “I was surprised at first, I admit, but it makes perfect sense.”

 _Bullshit_ , Daryl thinks, as she pulls Paul in for a fourth or fifth hug.

After ages of repeating back some variation of "Ain't a big deal," while Maggie makes it obvious that it is, indeed, a very big deal, Daryl finally hits his limit.

"Going hunting," he grunts out of the blue, and stands for his crossbow.

Maggie laughs. "No, no, I'll stop. I'm sorry. It's just- I'm so happy for you two.” God, it looks like she might be tearing up again.

"Yeah, I gathered."

She laughs instead "Alright, I get it. I'll quit tormenting you, I've got plenty of work to do anyhow."

Paul buries his head in his hands as she leaves the trailer.

"What the hell, man?" Daryl asks, standing restlessly to get the whisky. He needs it.

Voice slight muffled, Paul says, "I understand if you want to break up with me. Punch me, kick me in the balls. Whatever."

"Ain't convinced you've got anything down there to kick. What happened?" His brain grabs at that _break up with me_. There are implications there that he's not ready to think about.

Paul snatches the whiskey from his hand and takes a swig. "The phrasing was... unfortunate. It just came out. But we said we’d tell her, and she was about the walk out thinking we’re still just roommates.” He takes another swig, then frowns. "Wait, did you _want_ her to think we'd just be roommates?"

“Nah.” Daryl squirms. "Nah, it's cool with me either way."

\--

Moving Maggie and Enid out a couple of days later takes all of twenty minutes. The women have three small boxes of stuff between them, plus a little chest full of things people have collected for the baby so far.

Then it's just Daryl and Paul in the trailer, facing each other across the table.

Staring at his pillow sitting by his bedroll on the floor, Daryl wonders if he should move it to the bed. It seems awful presumptuous.

Paul snaps him out of his thoughts when he takes a small step forward, then two large ones around the table. Then he's trying to kiss Daryl (mouth moving hungrily, eyes closed tight, god _damn_ ) and drag him to the bed at the same time, not really accomplishing either very well.

Doesn't matter. Daryl starts getting turned on the moment Paul's hands are on him. He walks the smaller man backwards until his legs bump against the bed—Paul seems too distracted to navigate.

He resists being pushed onto the mattress, though. "Clothes first," he gasps, and starts to tug Daryl's shirt up from his waist.

Instinctively, Daryl takes a step back.

For all the times they've fooled around, they've never actually gotten naked. Not even close. They’ve gotten each other unbuttoned and unzipped, pants sagging around their knees, and Daryl once yanked the other man’s t-shirt up over his nipples so he could taste.

Still, naked feels like a whole new ballgame.

Fortunately Paul doesn't notice his hesitation, he's too busy attacking Daryl's buttons now that he's realized the shirt won't pull off over his shoulders easily.

After a couple of seconds, Daryl reaches for Paul's belt, and Paul’s breath hitches. Daryl can feel those nimble hands shaking as they work open the buttons over his stomach, but can't drag his eyes away from his face.

Once they're naked, one of Paul’s small hands immediately travels from Daryl’s lower back to the curve of his ass, and he's _got_ to feel the way the skin ripples and stretches over the lash marks there. It’s impossible to miss.

Taking a deep breath, Daryl closes his eyes and counts to five like the book said. When he opens them Paul is looking straight into his eyes.

"Come here," he says quietly, and tugs Daryl down onto the bed. Lays him out on his back. Daryl can feel warm skin everywhere against his.

Paul kisses him sweetly, and Daryl wishes for about the millionth time he knew what was going through his head. He's being gentle now, like Daryl's little freak out turned him off, but his dick is still a stiff line against Daryl's stomach.

Then Paul's straddling his hips, and Daryl is confronted with the sight of other man's fully naked body for the first time. He moans involuntarily, forgetting his own bullshit for a minute, gaze jumping around to take everything in; Paul smirks at him, reaching to the bedside table for something.

"Can I?" he asks, and Daryl nods, because ever since this started it seems like Paul can do pretty much whatever he wants with him.

When Paul starts to spread lube _there_ , though, Daryl's hands fly to his waist to stop him. "What, what are you-"

"I, uh, prepared myself before the girls got here for their stuff. Just... adding some extra slick." Paul's blushing crimson, and Daryl's brain refuses to accept what it's just heard. It glides straight to Paul's next sentence. "Do you not like- or- I'm sorry, I just thought, y'know, we have the trailer to ourselves now.”

Heart hammering in his chest, Daryl forces his hands down Paul's hips to his thighs.

Paul wants to be fucked in the ass.

That's... that's ok. He probably likes it. It's a thing gay guys do sometimes.

"Yeah. We can-" Daryl clears his throat. "We can."

"Do you want that, though?" Paul says. His dick has started to soften a little.

Daryl's hasn't. Fucking hell. “It won't hurt you, will it?"

Paul smiles. "Definitely not."

"Then yeah. Uh. Go ahead."

It's goddamn incredible.

Paul's flushed face, his flexing thighs, his sweaty hair. No pain or hesitation that Daryl can see. His body is on display and he's not shy about it at all, riding Daryl's dick like it's all he can think about. And god, the noises he makes when Daryl reaches up and thumbs at his nipple experimentally. He starts moving faster, back arching, and Daryl's about two minutes from blowing his load when he realizes they can draw this out.

 _Then_ there's the noises Paul makes when Daryl holds him still and takes over the rhythm, fucking up into him more slowly.

 _Then_ there's begging, and "Oh god _please_ , I've wanted you to fuck me since-"

Daryl almost regrets interrupting that thought, only he doesn't regret it at all, because getting his hand on Paul's dick makes the other man convulse, lean down, and start coming all over Daryl's stomach and chest.

With Paul limp and weak, Daryl flips them over so he's the one doing the work now. It seems like the polite thing to do before pounding into the smaller man, chasing his own orgasm. Paul's spent body jostles with each thrust until his hands go to the headboard, bracing.

Seeing him like that, tense arms framing his face, white teeth digging into his lip- and the idea of it, of smart, funny, badass Paul getting fucked into the mattress- and knowing that he’s going to come, right inside the other man, filling him-

Daryl crashes over the edge of orgasm in nothing flat.

He rolls off and lays there panting on his back between the wall and Paul's overheated body. Paul's come got smeared everywhere between them, mingling with their sweat.

Exhausted, Daryl falls asleep without doing anything about it.

—

It’s still early the next morning when sopping wet hair lands on Daryl’s chin and neck, making him recoil.

“Did you just hiss at me?” Paul asks incredulously, sweeping his hair behind him and staying close. He's showered, obviously, which probably means he'd also passed out last night without cleaning up. Even Paul, finicky as a cat about cleanliness, would usually at least wait until after the day’s work to wash.

If Daryl feels crusty and uncomfortable, he can only imagine how Paul felt, waking up after last night.

Oh god, last night. Daryl blinks awake as his morning wood gets painfully harder. At some point in the night he'd burrowed under the quilt, and he's grateful for the cover now.

The trailer was usually loud and bustling in the mornings, with four people getting ready for the day. Now it's just the two of them side by side on the bed, quiet and awkward.

"I'm going to- I think I'll go eat breakfast. Would you want to eat with me?" Paul asks, oddly formal.

Daryl stares.

Unless one of them has an early shift at the wall or is on a run, they always sit together at breakfast. Lunch and dinner sometimes, too, though that's iffy depending on what they're working on each day.

"Guess so," he says. "Give me a minute to..." He gestures at his chest and stomach, which are positively itchy with dried come.

—

Paul's quiet during breakfast.

That never happens.

"Gonna fish today," Daryl says, reaching for something interesting to say. "Walk to that creek by the highway."

"Ok."

There's a long pause. Daryl scowls at his reconstituted eggs.

“I'm out too. The bullet factory is up and running, and I want to see how it's done." The 'in case Eugene gets killed' goes unsaid.

"Yeah."

Maggie and Dante join them. Dante's presence keeps Maggie from saying anything too embarrassing, but she's just as smiley as she's been ever since they broke the news.

Paul stands to leave just a few moments later after wolfing down his oatmeal. He does it while Daryl's up getting more coffee.

Feeling a bit desperate, Daryl pushes his coffee at Dante without sitting down again. Maggie winks at him and rises to take their dirty plates to the kitchen.

She walks away and Daryl starts to leave as well, but Dante calls him back.

"You don't mind living alone with him, do you? Cause you could bunk with me, there's room."

Daryl frowns anxiously after Paul, not understanding the question.

"Don't get me wrong, Jesus is a good guy. But, you know... just don't drop the soap." He chuckles lightly.

Stunned, Daryl wonders if he should be offended on Paul's behalf. But it's not like Dante is wrong—Paul does like that sort of thing. He’d proven that last night, and he'll undoubtedly expect Daryl to return the favor eventually.

"Fuck off," he finally says, slowly and deliberately, before stalking away towards the trailer.

\--

Paul's gathering his things to leave Hilltop and meet Eugene. His hair is piled in a lopsided bun on top of his head and he only has one boot on.

"Sorry, I know I bailed fast- but Maggie is so _happy_ , and Dante- I had to get out of there."

Watching him, Daryl can't think of a thing to say in response. That’s happening a lot to him, recently.

"I suck at this. I get it if you want your own room,” Paul says next, out of the blue. His head hangs low, chin almost to his chest, standing in front of his pack on the kitchen table. "How am I fucking this up already?” He rubs his beard. “I- I just like you a lot, ok? I'm sorry that I-"

Daryl cuts him off with a harsh kiss.

\--

When they finally leave the trailer Paul decides it’s too late to drive to Alexandria, so they go fishing together instead.

“I don’t know how this works,” Daryl confesses as they sit together quietly. “With two dudes.”

“What do you mean?” Paul asks, casting his line again.

“Like… I ain’t gonna bring you flowers or stupid shit like that.”

Paul’s mouth twitches. That mean he’s laughing at Daryl but doesn’t want to show it. “No? Why not?”

“Pfft. Like you would want some damn flowers sitting around the trailer,” Daryl says, but he’s not as certain as he sounds.

Grinning openly now, Paul leans in and kisses his cheek.

—

Daryl makes sure Dante sees him trail a hand up Paul's arm as they walk back into the gate with a whole mess of fish.

He blushes fiercely as he does it, but it's worth it to see how Paul's eyes brighten.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't read the comics regularly, so apologies for hijacking Dante for some low-key homophobia.


End file.
